Young Sam Grandiere had pleaded hard to be allowed to marry Wynnette at the same time that Leonidas was to marry Odalite, and Roland Rosemary. And neither Mr. nor Mrs. Force raised any objection. But Wynnette herself resisted the proposal in a characteristic way.
“No,” she said, “we must not think of ‘marrying or giving in marriage,’ while our countrymen are falling in battle or dying in hospitals by thousands and tens of thousands—many also perishing for want of help, and not hands enough at leisure from business or from pleasure to give it! No! I suppose it is necessary that these others should marry for good reasons, but you and I must wait for better times, Sam, because, as soon as the double wedding is over and the two ‘happy’ pairs gone, Elva and I intend to return to Washington and go to work in the hospitals.”
“In the hospitals! What can you two do?” had been Sam’s amazed exclamation and incredulous question.
“We may not be first-rate nurses, but we can help the nurses; we can obey orders, step lightly, speak softly, fetch and carry, and do any work we are put to do, and we mean to do it!”
“And your father and mother mean to let you?”
“Of course they do! That is what we all came home from Europe for. And papa and mamma mean to offer their services, too.”
“Well! If it were not you and your parents, Wynnette, I should say that you were all the biggest fools in the world, and that each one of you was the biggest fool of all the rest!” exclaimed the provoked lover.
“And if it were not you, who couldn’t hit me back because you are a man and I am a girl, I should box your ears soundly for saying that, Mr. Samuel Grandiere!”
“Oh, I shouldn’t mind that,” said Sam, with a laugh.
And the honest young pair parted good friends, Sam going to escort his relations on their journey to St. Mary’s.